


Timelocked

by marxistqueens



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marxistqueens/pseuds/marxistqueens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor takes Clara to a special place from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timelocked

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trying so hard to not ship these two but all of the fanfiction other people have been writing inspired me, so I wrote this. I never ever write fanfiction so this is a new experience. 
> 
> Standard warnings of me not owning these characters or Doctor Who apply.

Her laughter sounds light and clear from across the room. She’s reading a book that he fetched for her from the library, one that he thought she’d like. She obviously does: her legs are tucked up beneath her in the armchair, her head resting against the back, face split into a wide smile at the prose. He watches as her fingers lazily flick the coming pages back and forth, creating a soft purr of paper against skin. 

He longs to interrupt her, to have that radiance turned to _him—_ and yet he doesn’t, not willing to break the spell of her delight. 

“Doctor,” she says brightly, snapping the book shut suddenly and swinging her legs around to face him squarely. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“Oh, Clara,” he murmurs, trying not to betray the swell of joy he feels at hearing her speak. “That’s the beauty of it. We’re going _everywhere_.” 

She gives him a look, one of her characteristic _Ha ha, very clever, Doctor_ faces that he’s come to expect. “I mean right _now_ , at this very moment.”

“So do I,” he replies, and pulls the brakes for dramatic punctuation. With a deep, ringing boom they halt. Clara grins, the merest hint of a question on her lips. She jumps up from her chair, skipping forward to meet him. 

“What’s out there?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Of course you know. You’re not just going to bring her down anywhere.” 

He chuckles, “Of course I will. That’s how adventure works! Bringing down your ship anywhere and everywhere. That’s how I found you.” He taps her lightly on the nose and sweeps away towards the door, opening it and disappearing in one smooth motion. He knows she’ll follow, her curiosity at what danger he’s brought her to now overwhelming whatever self-preservation instincts she should have. Most would ask more questions; most _have._ But not her. She follows. She stays.  

The TARDIS doors creak behind him, and he turns to see her. She’s paused, her right hand lingering on the doorframe, eyes wide as she stares up at the dark sky.  

“You weren’t kidding,” she breathes.  

Stars wheel overhead, forming and exploding and coming together again. Planets collide and break apart and reform, their ages whirling by as quickly as they do, cascading through nebulas that fade and then burst back into life. The whole of the cosmos is reborn from the ashes a thousand times, flashing to life and death and back again as quickly as a heartbeat.  

“Clara Oswald,” he says quietly, feeling her hand slip into his as she moves to join him. “Welcome to everywhere.” 

Her eyes are alight with the fireworks show of pure time. He watches carefully. Every line in her deep brown irises illuminated by a flash is more precious to him than what is happening above. Her glance flickers to his face and she catches him staring, but for the first time he doesn’t play it cool; there’s no reason to pretend. In that moment he knows that for a long time, she’s been doing the same as him. When she smiles, it’s almost imperceptible. He brushes her hair back from her forehead, wanting desperately to—

 _No,_ he cautions himself. _Not yet._  

“Well, let’s not just stand here!” he shouts a little too loudly, clapping his hands together and moving away, tugging her forwards with him as he walks.  

They’re in a field of long, soft grass. “What _is_ this place?” she exclaims breathlessly, stumbling as she tries to walk and stare at the spectacle playing out above her.  

“Careful!” He chuckles. “It doesn’t have a name. It’s a timelocked planet, set in the perfect place to watch all of time and space. It was a birthday gift for my granddaughter, but she never got to come here.” He notices her looking at him, concerned; he clears his throat. “This is the first time anybody has set foot on it. You, Clara, get to break it in.”

She grins and lets her head fall back, her face peaceful. “Lucky me,” she whispers. 

The grass waves in a light breeze and he sits down. The ground is cool and dry— _her dress won’t get wet,_ he thinks, surprised that such minutiae have begun occurring to him. Clara flops down next to him, lying back with her arms behind her head. Her face is permanently smiling. He’s never seen her so happy.  

“There are so many beautiful things, aren’t there?” she says. “Just beautiful things. Good things. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that, but this… this is perfect. It’s beautiful.” 

“Yes, it is,” he says quietly, gazing at her instead of the sky. 

She doesn’t respond for a moment, and then quickly turns to him. “Hey!” she snaps good-naturedly, smiling coyly. “ _I saw that_. Do you think that line is really going to work on me?” 

He considers it for a moment. “Yes. I do.”  

With all of the things he’s faced, with all of the pain and loss and fear from battle and fighting and death, he finds it silly that his hearts would be beating at their fastest as he leans down to kiss this human girl, this fragile, breakable creature made of nothing but skin and bones and raw vitality. He almost pulls away as a wave of misgivings rise in the pit of his stomach—but then he feels her hand softly grip his neck and falls, his mouth meeting her warm lips. Her eyes slowly close. 

He can feel her smiling against his smile. They kiss as the universe implodes. 


End file.
